


Neighborhood dreams

by PolarGrizz47



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Boyfriends, Cooking, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gardening, M/M, normal life AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/pseuds/PolarGrizz47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reese moves into the neighborhood, quickly befriending the strange, shy man that lives across from him, evolving into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Reese was new to the neighborhood; he was greeted happily by the odd detectives, who were apparently a newly married couple. They brought him food as a piece offering, since the darker women had observed his obsession with Chinese takeout, and thought that he ought to have more protein in his diet, she chided gently, “You’re just as bad as Harold…”

Mr. Finch, his neighbor across the street, lived in a simple light blue house. It was neat, the yard nice and green; he had a simple garden stretched out next to the garage. Nobody saw much of him during the winter, he would only come out to go to work, and come home. From what he could gather from Lionel and Joss, he had a simple black cat, a large flat screen TV, a fish tank, and his home was stylish on the inside. Simple, sleek but eye catching, as they described it. Mr. Finch drove a small black, new Toyota, left every week day at 7:00am, got home at 8:00pm. There was hardly any fast food delivered to his home, and he always wore a fancy little three piece suit.

In the summer, he was much more active. On the weekends, he would tend to his garden, furnish his house, and sometimes even hang out in his pool, in his back yard. The small man could be described as reclusive, to most at least. But all John saw was a man whom enjoyed his privacy. Reese would know, he was the same way, been that way since after his deployment in the war, twice. He was proud of his work, but never talked about it. He was skilled, capable of many jobs, but for now, he wanted to settle down, run a coffee shop or something.

It was a hot summer day, John decided to take his loyal war dog, Bear for a run around the neighborhood, the Tillman kid’s loved playing with him any way’s. He was finished around 12 pm, just the time that Finch got home, with a new load of white lilies to plant. The recluse was just popping the hatch on the trunk, freeing the damp flowers to the harsh light; he squinted as he bent down to pick up the first flower. Bear, unleashed as usual, rounded the corner and came bounding over to the quite man. John wasn’t far behind, his tight white shirt wet in some area’s with sweat, his camouflage pant’s stretching as he jogged around. “Bear! Foei!” He shouted, waving a hand over his head, watching hopelessly as the dog circled around the man and hopped up onto the neatly pressed shirt. The three piece suit was discarded during the off hours, the pale man only wearing some paint stained jeans, an old tan button up. Harold jerked back, in alarm as the large dog woofed and pranced around him. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry- He never does this!” John stuttered out, panting as he ran over, giving the energetic dog a whack on the nose, the beast being tamed as it sat obediently by the ex-solider.

“Oh!” Harold blinked, the sun reflecting of the small circular frames he wore today, they weren’t hard to replace if they broke. “It’s fine; he just startled me, that’s all.” The shorter mumbled, shifting the load of flowers he cradled close, the cardboard box was dirtied with potting soil in several places. Reese felt obliged to repay the man somehow, seeing as there were dirty paw prints all over the recluses left side, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Well, here. Let me help you with these, best I can do!” John half demanded, half offered, Finch seemed surprised. He shuffled around to glance back at the three boxes left, each bearing its own weight.

“N-no, really it’s okay-”

“I insist.” Reese pressed, smiling a bit as he watched Harold shrug and hobble toward to the outer area of the garage, choosing to place the boxers there for now.

“Well, okay… If you could just place them here, that’d be great. Thank you, Mr. Reese.” Finch spoke rather formally, grunting lightly as he set his own box down, a hand pressing to his lower back as he stood back up, sighing. Reese felt some pity for the man, he limped, he kept alone, and nobody knew why.

“It’s John,” He insisted, swiftly picking up a box of the white lilies, a bit surprised by their weight. “What are you going to do with all these flowers?” He asked, glancing toward the front of the blue house, the drive way and the edge of home, it seemed like he had no more room for these lilies.

“Oh, I’m going to plant them around my pool, the white will set off with the black stone. On second thought, why don’t we just take them over there… better to make one trip now than two later.” He seemed to chatter to himself, going back over to his original box.

“Oh, I can get it!” John blurted out, not wanting to see the smaller man throw his back out. “Really, I need a good lifting workout,” He chuckled, watching as Finch stiffly turned back toward him. He pushed up the wire frames up a bit, nodding curtly as he gestured to a hidden gate, John hadn’t even realized it until now, it was cleverly painted the same color and trimming as the blue house.

“Okay, John,” Finch smiled a bit; just for a moment, but Reese trained eyes caught the slight curve of the thin lips. Bear bounced into the green back yard, circling the pool, but not jumping in. Reese spent the day, carrying boxes and watching Finch work around, carving up the ground, laying out premium soil. He did his best to help, but was mainly afraid he’d somehow catch fire to the delicate ground.

It was a pleasant surprise when the remainder of the summer dragged by, and he found solace next to the reclusive cripple. Watching, and helping him plant some too. Other, lucky days, they would lounge about in the pool, Reese’s tan skin stood out from the pale, soft flesh of Harold’s. Sometimes Joss and Lionel would show up, share a few cold ones and splash about in the crystal waters. They found out rather quickly that Finch didn’t drink beer; he preferred his wines, letting them all sample some. Even though Reese found himself pressing a cold top of glass or aluminum to his lips more than he ever would the clean, fragile glass of red wine.

Finch’s house was internally amazing, clean and professional. He had smooth granite countertops, oak wood cabinets a black refrigerator, stove, dish washer and microwave to match. It all was tied off with some colorful cup holders littering the dark stone; the off light in the kitchen was peaceful at best. His living room was set in a black and white, monochromatic theme. The soft carpet was thick and black; the couch was smooth and white, large. It was angled toward the television, for optimal viewing, the speakers flanking the large screen where nearly invisible, being painting the same soft grey on the walls. There were few pictures, and John was very, very surprised to find a black and white cat meowing around the premises. Bear and the cat were an unlikely couple, the dog enjoyed long hours flopped next to posh creature, and the black collar held a small jewel. He found out later that the cat was named “Machine,” Harold had adopted her with that name.

~

It was just around the time where autumn was kicking into gear, the two men were seated on the porch, gazing over the freezing pool, listening to the small neighborhoods quietness. Both were cradling their favored drinks, Reese a Coor’s Light, Finch some older wine. The sun was just setting, casting a gleam over both their faces; Reese’s pull over sweater and Finch’s buttoned up cardigan kept them warm. It wasn’t too cold, wasn’t too dark, wasn’t too bright.

It was then that they shared their first kiss.

~

They soon were officially the first ‘ _gay couple_ ’ in the neighborhood, although that didn’t really bother their fellow neighbor’s, the Fusco’s were happy about it, Miss Tillman and her boy were just happy that the two men ~~finally~~ found feeling again. Bear was much happier, being as he was able to regularly hop in the pool and laze about with Machine, and get to play fetch with Harold, run with John. They never official moved in, they liked swapping houses on certain days, and Finch took the liberty to style Reese’s home. The change was good.

The two homes also came in handy when they needed a little personal time, which wasn’t often.

~

Harold was humming again, Reese noted as he shut the door with his foot, happily announcing that he was home. As he trotted up the stairs, coat on shoulder, he glanced into the kitchen-seeing Finch’s slim back as he slaved over the stove. John was quick to hang up his coat, toss his keys in the bowl and sneak into the kitchen. Bear was on his heels, tail wagging, and eyes pleading. Reese gave him a good scratch behind the ears before sliding up behind his boyfriend. “Mm, smells good, Harold.” He spoke in a soft whisper; wrapping his arms around the once reclusive man’s waist and pulling him flush against him.

“J-John, I’m cooking.” Harold mumbled, turning his head as best able to give his partner a peck on the lips. Reese took his turn to hum in approval, ducking his head down to sniff the pale neck, which was currently showing due to the normal shirt Finch was adorning. Reese loved coming home to this, his Harold, his dog, his cat. And now that he had a steady job working as the main cook at the ‘ _Irrelevant’s Café_ ,’ he was content. Finch kept his job as an insurance agent, and Bear went to the ‘Doggie Day Care’ during the day, Machine stayed here to hold down the fort.

“Yes, I know. Just wanted to hold you,” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to the soft flesh above Finch’s pulse point, he heard the sighing chuckle that escaped the other. Harold was making spaghetti, well, the garlic bread. The boiled noodles sat, drained and kept warm in the same pot they had cooked in, a lid held in the heat. The bread was just done from being toasted; Finch was buttering it up and preparing to garlic it. Reese eventually pulled away to set the table, Harold’s top rule was no eating in his living room, claiming it was bad enough from all the animal hair, John wouldn’t have it any other way. He did enjoy a good game of footsie under the table.

-

They plopped down on the couch after dinner, Finch’s head resting on Reese’s shoulder, a hand resting on the faded blue jeans near the tallers knee. Bear sat on the floor close to John’s side, Machine purred from her box near the edge of the couch. John found it odd, the spoiled cat had a fancy bed, but she much preferred the old box from the lilies - but what could you expect from a street cat. Reese let his arm coil around Harold’s side, pulling him close and sighing contently, the remote enabling him to flash through channels.

“There’s nothing on.” He boredly whined much like a child as he let his head fall back against the white material, his greying black hair standing out. Harold smiled and sat up a bit, raising a brow past his thick frames.

“Well… We could always make our own entertainment, John.” He practically purred, his voice taking on a more sultry tone as his hand slide up the beefy arm of muscle. Reese licked his lips at the thought, letting his hand trial down lower and non-to-gently grab Harold’s ass.

“Oh, I love that idea…” He grinned, pressing Finch down onto the mattress, licking his lips as he watched a blush coat those pale features.


	2. Neighborhood dreams (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Harold continue their life together, growing closer.

It was winter, Harold’s least favorite time of year. He had to watch his precious flowers die, his pool be tarped up, the leaves dying of the trees, the warm sun hiding behind the clouds. The only good thing about winter was the longer nights; he could actually get eight hours of sleep for once. Reese also enjoyed the longer evenings, well – they both took joy in the moons light.

Reese was still out working, probably staying late to help wash all the dishes, scrub down the tables and keep _‘Irrelevant’s Café’_ looking fine. Which left Finch curled up on the couch, Bear flopped down on the ground, and Machine curled up in her box, purring. He had the thermostat turned up, they could afford it, plus he hated the cold. He would rather burn to a crisp then slowly feel his veins freezing over. The television flickered images of ‘ _The Biggest Loser’_ over his glasses, he boredly watched, letting a tortured sigh slip past his lips. Finch was used to Reese being here, lounging about with him, helping him cook or set the table. He had made himself tomato soup and grilled cheese, ‘accidently’ dropping some extra cheesy bread into Bear’s bowl. It was a Friday, no need for anything fancy, since he was eating alone.

It was 10 pm by the time John was able to drag his butt back home, slouching with tiredness as he typed in their code, hearing the electronic beep as he swung the door open, and promptly closed it with his foot. Trudging up the stairs, he grunted out an – “I’m home,” but didn’t get any reply, other than Bear rushing to his side tail furiously wagging. He managed to hang up his coat, drop his keys in the bowl, pet Bear’s head and stumble down the hallway to the living room, seeing as the television was still on. There was Harold, curled up in a corner of the couch, slumped awkwardly to side, fast asleep. John found himself smiling, even though he knew the odd, bent over position was bad for his lovers back. Finch looked like he had just been resting his elbow on knee, chin in palm when he lost the battle to sleep, and his arm fell aside, letting his head flop down. It almost looked like the smaller man was suspended by an invisible seatbelt.

He picked up the remote, clicked off the TV, and did his best to scoop up Harold, without disturbing him. Which was successful. The paler man cradled nicely in his arms, Reese was internally proud-knowing he could still lift weight, his exercising working. Although, Finch had lost a few pounds, at least fifteen if Reese was to guess, Harold had chosen to eat healthy and do some simple lifting activities, since he couldn’t really run with his leg injury. Bear followed him down the hallway; tail wagging as he watched Reese set his crippled lover gently in the bed. Reese chuckled, deciding to keep Finch in his clothes, he was exhausted himself, and he didn’t want to wake up Harold on accident. John took the care to take off the black frames that helped those washed out blue eyes to see, and took heed to set them on the nightstand. He toed off his shoes, seeing as Harold had already done that, the smaller brown dress shoes where pressed up against the wall near the coat rack. Reese walked back down the hall, placing his black shoes there next to Finch’s as he made a quick light sweep, turning off the back porch light, double checking the locks on the door, and turning down the thermostat a bit-he didn’t need to bake in his blankets.

He lazily pulled his shirt off, discarding the white button down on the floor, wiggling out of his black slacks and flopping down into the bed. The quick disrobing left him in a tight undershirt, which was white and his grey boxers.  John threw the brown and red covers over them both, spooning up against Finch’s back, seeing as the man naturally fell onto his right side-which was odd due to his bad leg. Harold mumbled intelligently in his sleep, curling into the hold, Reese let his eyes close as he rested his head against the light brown pillow, the foam forming to his skull. His nose touched with Harold’s shoulder, being able to breath in the curious scent. It was no surprise when he eventually, just before he dozed off, felt the bed dip with Machine’s presence, she curled up between their legs and purred a slow, sleepy tone. Bear also jumped up, spreading out against the unused area near the foot of the bed, tail thumping erratically until he to found a peaceful slumber.

-

Reese woke with a start, jumping at the small nightmare he was having, memories from a different time. The feeling of dull terror was quickly washed away as he calmed down enough to see Finch’s body, still snuggly pressed up against his side. The soft breathing coming off the paler man told John that he was still asleep, the ex-solider didn’t mind, it gave him time to study Finch a bit. The once reclusive man was still a bit of a loner, and he always would be-being as it was probably part of his nature. Seeing as there was some thing’s Harold didn’t want to talk about, like how he got injured, for instance. But Reese had no room to talk, when he was moving in some things over to Finch’s house, more everyday use objects, and the smaller man was poking around his home – he had stumbled upon the framed picture of his old troop. The small squad of men, all dirty, guns strapped over shoulder’s, faces muddied with the grime. Reese had been silent, and Harold had let him take the old picture from his pale hands, and wandered off somewhere into the kitchen.

Reaching out he let his fingers on one hand trail against Finch’s shoulder, than down to his hip, tenderly tracing the small dip in his waistline. He let his cool grey blue eyes trace over the back, covered in a light grey shirt, the button up loosened, the collar tugged down. The faint white scar drew much attention; the spinal surgery was still a mystery, but John was willing to wait. He knew some things would take months to unravel, even years-but he loved Finch enough. Using a delicate touch, he gradually traced the smooth scar, sensibly so he wouldn’t wake Harold. Gradually the rest of the sun rose, shining through the brown drapes in some thinner areas, Bear stirred around this time. Machine was already long gone, lazing about the house, using her litter box or helping herself to some of the food Finch kept in abundance. The worn dog sat up, yawned and slipped off the bed, stretching down to full length.

John finally felt his lover stir, Finch simply mumbling and fumbling around, reaching up to rub the heel of his left palm around his forehead and eyes. After a few moments of grunting and ultimately a sigh, the older man rolled himself over, eyes focusing on John body. “Good morning,” Reese said, tone laced thoroughly with roughness, not quite haven woke up fully yet. Finch smiled as best as his hazy mind could manage, ducking his head down to rest his forehead along Reese’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his upper torso. John tittered, bringing his arms up to hold Harold close, enjoying having the other close to him. They stayed like that for a long while, mumbling things to one another, slowly letting full awareness rinse over their minds.

By the time they got up and moving around, it was nine thirty, the blue numbers on the microwave blinked out. Finch flopped down on the couch, watching John move about in the kitchen, his inner chef revealing himself as several food items were promptly placed on the counter. Finch loved watching Reese cook, taking in lungful’s of the sweet aroma of whatever Reese had decided to fix up. But today he wanted to take a shower, standing up wobbly, he limped over past John.

“I’m going to take a shower; I’ll help set the table when I’m done.” He yawned out, watching Reese flash his devilish smile and hardly restrain himself from saying anything filthy; both of them found out rather quickly that shower sex was amazing. Finch rolled his eyes and mirrored the grin, “No.” He sternly said, chuckled to himself as he limped down the hallway.

John sighed, placing a frying pan on the stove, using some olive oil to add some flavor as he splashed in salt and pepper. Bear whined at his side, tail wiggling around as he looked up at his master, John gasped and strode over to the sliding glass door. Opening up the black curtain and then the door just a crack, hissing as the cold trickled over his feet. “Bear _, voruit_ ,” he spoke kindly, no need to be stern with such a simple command. Bear gladly romped out, jumping down the stairs to frolic in the frosty snow. Sniffing out a suitable territory to remark as he emptied his bladder and wasted some energy running around the property. Reese closed the door, watching his dog play around for a moment before he heard the shower kick on. He made his way back to the kitchen.

~

Harold eventually exited the restroom, a thick cloud of steam pouring behind him as he opened the door- the fan did little good. The smaller man wasn’t going anywhere special today, as he knew of, so he chose to wear a simple ensemble. A black undershirt, short sleeved, a grey cardigan and a black over jacket. He really did hate the cold, and as he hobbled by, he sneakily flicked up the thermostat. His black slacks stood out against the tiled floor in the kitchen, John’s back was turned, as he was putting the finishing touches on whatever dish he’d devised upon. Finch glowered at the sight of an already set island; the two normally ate breakfast in the middle of the kitchen the dark island bore the same granite as his countertops, and perched in the middle of the whole room. It was great for extra cooking room, a place to eat, do work. Harold was smart, and had outlets inserted to the island, serving as an efficient place to plug in his laptop or phone in. The bar style chair stools where comfortable, seemed that everything in the household was fancy and damn fine. His temporary frustration died when John slightly turned to smile honestly at him, Finch couldn’t fight the grin that he couldn’t extinguish.

John dished out the food with such a skill that only a well trained chef could manage to receive, as Finch tussled with the seat, sighing a bit once he finally got himself settled in. He let his muddy blue eyes trail over the plate, the circular wire frames glinting in the minimal light within the kitchen, John choosing to use natural light from the open curtain than waste electricity. Before he even sat down, he strolled over to the glass door, and slides it open, letting Bear in. The dog didn’t bother them while they feed; he simply bothered the cat, who was resting in her box near the couch. Reese had made something simple, except in a professional chef’s fashion. It was an omelet, sautéed nicely, stuffed with some chopped chicken and fresh veggies-John hated those “frozen devils”, as he would say. The egg itself was buttered, salted and lightly peppered. He had also taken out some of the new sausage, they went through it like candy-well, Reese did at least. The two lightly brown links sat perfectly on Harold’s golden and white plate, next to the napkin with those two golden browned pieces of freshly buttered toast. It was a sin to have a chef for a boyfriend.

“Well, bon appetite,” John would say, seating himself as he grabbed his fork. Finch merely smiled, already cutting the omelet softly, feeling the spongy food break under the butter knife. Bear would sniff and prod at Machine, tail wagging as he bowed down, wanting to play. The simple minded cat simply stretched, and walked toward her box. Bear whined and stomped around, picking up his stuffed lion and shaking it around, then he would go pout in his amber colored bed.

Finch took the last nibble off his toast, refusing to eat the crusts as Reese finished off the rest of the sausage, stabbing it with his fork and ripping down to the metal with his teeth. Then he would nip the last link of the remaining meat, licking his lips as he watched Finch move to stand. John snatched up both plates with deft skill, watching Harold smile a bit, then pick up the two glasses that had once contained milk, both set respective dishes in certain places within the magical dishwasher.

They both made their way to the couch, sprawling out against it, watching Bear rush over-tennis ball clutched in mouth. John held out his hand, palm up, and Bear actually dropped the lime green toy in his clutch. He then flicked his wrist up and sent the ball flying behind him, perfectly bouncing into the hallway, Finch sighed. “You’re going to make the pictures fall again,” he protested, picking up the remote. Reese smiled, letting his arm fall around the width of Finch’s waist.

“It’s only happened twice; relax honey- it’s not like I’m going to burn the place down.” He teased, referring to the time Finch had set something in the stove on fire. Finch rolled his eyes at the comment, turning on the television, and the Play Station. Reese sighed, content just sitting here with Finch, his dog, the cat. This was living.

“We’re watching Star Trek, and you can’t stop me,” Finch mumbled, starting up NetFlick as the red icon showed up, then loaded a list of popular shows and movies, and their most recently watched. Which consisted of cheesy shark shows, Reese loved them,   watching the dramatic movies. It was funny; Harold had to admit, watching the shark ‘rip’ his prey to pieces, then go after another victim-when sharks in real life weren’t on a man hunt.  Finch scrolled through until he found his series of choice, setting up the second season, Reese wasn’t going to argue, and he’d grasp the concept of the show quickly enough.

They sat like that for a good two hours, delving into the series-enjoying the classic series. Until Finch left to use the restroom, and came back to an offered coat and a clothed Reese, the man having pulled on some jeans and a pull over hoodie, his coat already slimming off those tanned shoulders. Bear’s tail was wagging faster as he watched Harold pull on the black coat, button it and look toward Reese, who was now holding a tennis ball. “Our dog need’s to burn some steam, we can at least stand out on the porch and toss him a few, huh?” Reese stated, leading his lover to the glass door, sliding it open and letting the dog free. They both shuffled up on the porch, Finch grimacing at the swift cold that flooded his once warm body, seeping into his clothes and causing him to shiver. Reese chucked the ball, watching it soar off the balcony and calling out, “ _Apport_ ,” still strict on his training with the keen dog. Bear lunged after it, jumping down the stairs and into the crunchy white blanket, running as fast as he could. John stood behind Harold, hands finding their way around the soft waist; he gently hummed around Finch’s neck.

Bear came trampling up the stairs, ball in mouth, tail slapping against the wooden railing, “ _Loslaten”_ Reese said sternly, watching as Bear obediently dropped the ball, sitting down with an expectant look. The taller man bent over to pick it up, offering it to Harold, who gave him a perplexed expression, the shrugged and took the offered ball. He gave it his best toss, but Reese’s first throw won by a long shot. “We need to work on your arm, hon.” John grinned, watching Finch as he shakes his head, smiling up at him.

“I’m a taxer, not a professional baseball player, John.” The paler man mumbled, watching Bear race after the ball, a simple green dot among the snow. He felt Reese slide up behind him once more, tilting his head a bit to the side as the other rested his sharp chin along his shoulder, felt a sigh tickle his neck.

“Speaking of which, you should totally help me fill out mine.” John murmured watching as Bear trotted back up the stairs, his collar jingling with his neat little tag.  Finch chuckled at the thought-he could just imagine John at the table, a plethora of papers, a calculator, and his teeth busy chewing the end of his pen off in sheer frustration.

“I can give you some tips, and look over it, but I’m not doing it for you, John.”

“Oh, fine…” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to Finch’s cheek, and throwing the ball once more for his loyal dog. They stayed like that, pressed up against one another, letting their breaths mingle and float off in thick clouds of steam as Bear eventually wore himself out.

~

Reese grinned, watching Finch as his eyes quickly scanned through the book he clutched so dearly. He was propped up on some pillow’s spread out lazily in the bed; his glasses perched on the tip of his nose, filtering the dim light he was using to read. John hummed with a yawn, stretching out and tapping Finch in the thigh with his out stretched arm. Harold glanced down at him, raising a brow.

“Come to bed,” Reese mumbled, his voice thick and slow, Finch sighed. Closing his book, but not before using the nifty book mark he’s had after all these years. “You’ve been reading since ten.” He mumbled, glancing at the alarm clock on his side of the bed, they had two separate ones, since they had different working hours.

“It’s only eleven…” Finch whined almost, but he set his book on the nightstand, reaching over to take off his glasses and turn off the lamp. “Fine, I’m going to bed, but don’t you try anything, John.” He warned, almost playfully, but tomorrow was Sunday, he had to get some work done. Clean the house, visit the Fusco’s, and chat with Dr. Tillman, among other things. Reese grinned, flopping back down on the bed with a triumphant smirk. Harold settled on his right side, adjusting some pillows so his head would remain supported during the night, he felt Reese spoon up behind him-per usual.

Just as he was dozing off, he felt Reese’s sneaky hand reach down below his waist line and grope him, a grin curling up against his neck as he nipped at the exposed flesh there. John flat out whined, pulling the older man’s body closer into his own, possessively holding him there. That older man chuckled, reaching up to give Reese a quick flick on the nose, much like a disobedient dog would receive. John only squeezed a bit harder, making the reclusive individual red all the way to the top of his ears.  Finch quirked a brow, reaching down to set John’s hand on his hip, barely mumbling, “Behave yourself, _Jonathan_.”

Reese simply grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> My favorite AU setting, ever.


End file.
